


Setting the Stage

by mizzsy



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Brother Feels, Gen, Implied actor mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 07:13:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21295577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizzsy/pseuds/mizzsy
Summary: Backstories are such pesky things to write. Theirs began when Illinois came home for a surprise visit
Kudos: 40





	Setting the Stage

It was meant to be a surprise. 

Illinois hadn't made it back for his own birthday, way too busy with his final year of college to celebrate. But hell if he was going to miss his baby brothers 18th party. 

He hadn't even told his parents, wanting to see the look of surprise when he walked through the door tonight instead of having to wait another 4 months for him to get his history degree. They'd probably laugh, there'd be some smothering kisses from Mom while Dad went to hunt down his brother in the crowd of family and friends who'd come to celebrate him becoming an adult. 

It would have been perfect. 

Illinois should have known something was wrong as soon as he set eyes on his old family home. The windows were dark, the driveway empty, and the doors locked. Not a soul seemed to be around for what his Mom had said would be a pretty packed event. Illinois didn't care, pulling out his spare key with a smile and still thinking about his brothers face when he opened his present. 

The door opened, letting in a square of yellow from the street lights outside, and a thick, rotting smell that surged out towards Illinois. 

He gagged, recoiling backwards as his brain choked on how rancid the stench clogging up his mouth was that it took moments too long to identify it. 

Blood. Days old, curdling blood. 

"Mom?Dad?" he screamed, pushing through the stink that had invaded his home and frantically searching through the dark rooms. The living, dining, and guest room were all empty. Not a thing out of place, but each drowning in the same smell. Moldy and lingering like it had had time to work its way in. He sped upstairs, still nothing amiss in his home as he pushed open the doors of every bedroom to find them the same. 

Finally, he came to his parents bedroom, throwing the door open to a new, wet sound that joined the smell of death. 

The bedsheets were hard and brown from all the dried blood. His Dad was still, whitened eyes open to the ceiling with just the one slash across his throat opening him up as he slept. He'd died first,leaving time for his Mom to die slowly, a hundred cuts over her arms and chest that had splattered blood all over the room. Some so deep Illinois could see the muscle and bone spilling from beneath marbled skin. Her lips had tears in them, fighting back screams as she died. 

And above her, Yancy still held the knife, a mix of rusted brown and fresh red, stabbing at the body that had no blood left to pour out. 

"Yancy! Yancy, stop." Illinois didn't need to think before dating forward and pulling his little brother into a bear hug from behind. Arms pinned in and pulled back from the bodies that had begun to rot. But still Yancy's hand twitched, stuck in its repetitive motion as he squirmed back towards the work that his empty eyes fixed on. 

"No, no, no." Illinois whispered into Yancy's hair, filthy and sweaty as he dropped one arm to pull the knife from Yancy's hand and throw it away. "No, Yance. Stop it. Please."

He turned his brother around to properly look over him, the scene he'd just witnessed refusing to process as he checked his brother was OK. Not a scratch, just blood up to his elbows and the awful, distant look in his eyes. Illinois let him go, sure that he was in no danger in favour of softly cupping Yancy's face. 

" Yance, it's me. You gotta talk to me buddy."

Yancy glanced up, a hand shaking as it came up to touch Illinois', before breaking free of the cradle to look back towards the bed. 

"...I did that…" he whispered. 

"Did you?" Illinois asked, voice breaking as his eyes became wet, "Did you do this Yance?" 

"Had to. I had to."His brother went on, voice quiet and even as his nails began to rake up and down his arms. "I had to. S'how the story goes. S'what he said"

"Yancy, don't. Don't." Illinois begged grabbing his brothers crusted hands and pulling them away from the gouges he was creating. "Who said? What story?!?" 

Yancy's eyes dimmed again, his gaze wandering aimlessly around the room as his mouth sealed shut. 

"Ok… we can figure this out." Illinois reassured. He pulled his brother bonelessly into a hug, squeezing tight as he searched for ways to reconcile that what he had in his arms right now was all that was left of his family, by Yancy's own doing. 

His eyes came back to his parents, unavoidable as each detail sank into his brain. His hand ran through Yancy's hair for comfort, as he turned the observations of his Mom and Dad's corpses into something far more disgusting. 

"Just… Just stay here Yance. I'll fix this." Illinois murmured, screwing his eyes shut as he spoke in the hopes he'd have a stronger resolve when he opened them, and let go of his brother to move towards the bed. He made it only a few steps before a hand snapped out and pulled him to a halt. 

" Don't." Yancy said, voice deep, challenging, and so unlike what Illinois had known of his brother, "Don't try prevent the ending."

"Look,you're just a little messed up, right? You wouldn't do this Yance, I know you. Just let me take care of things and we can-" 

"If you try and hide the murder, I'll make it you next." Yancy said, a grin breaking across his face, "Is that how you want this to go?" 

"You wouldn't hurt me."

"Are you sure about that?" 

The brothers stood, staring each other down as all the events finally came crashing on Illinois, crushing him down bit by bit. 

"I'll call the police."

"There's a good boy."

*

Illinois hated visiting days. 

No good feelings came with them. After Yancy had been led away and the police officer had questioned Illinois, there was nothing but rage. Rage at Yancy for doing this. Rage for Yancy not letting him help. Rage at himself for being utterly useless so as to save any of his family. 

So he didn't come. Left Yancy rotting in the jail he was currently held. Hoping with the devastated , ugly hole that had been made that his brother was suffering alone after what he'd done. Then he'd found the family album whilst sorting through his parents possessions, and he'd spent hours crying over how the red cheeked boy in the photographs could have spent hours stabbing their mother's dead body. It was that image of Yancy in his head that grew the guilt in Illinois. Seeded in his belly and growing thorns and branches into his throat until he choked whenever he was awake thinking about his brother in jail with no one to defend him. It took three weeks for Illinois to cave and come to visit, only to find the same blank slate staring back at him for each hour. No answers, no feelings, no Yancy. Nothing that Illinois could use to finally set free all the churning, ugly things growing inside him. 

But he still came. What did he left to do now, other than sit in the house where his parents were murdered and think on the life he'd had snatched away?

Yancy,as ever, gave no indication there was even someone in front of him. Eyes fixed ahead like a doll. 

"Your trial is next week." Illinois said aloud. Maybe just talking to Yancy would help , regardless of any response given. "Adult trial, your lawyer told me. Might have been 17 when it happened, but now you're 18-"

"That was the plan."

Illinois' eyes shot up. Yancy's face remained blank, like a puppet being spoken through with the same, deep, voice from that night. 

"Don't talk stupid-you could get the death penalty."

"That won't happen. I made sure."

Yancy's eyes roved across the tables, never lingering long at the other families talking. 

"Why'd you do it Yance?" Illinois asked, taking the moment he knew might float away again, "What did they do that made you do that to them?" 

"Nothing personal. Wrong time wrong place. So the right people could be in the right place at the right time."

Illinois swallowed. 

"Right for what?" 

Yancy's gaze finally took direction, snapping in focus just to Illinois with eyes too dark to be Yancy's. 

"The relic." He grinned. 

Then he laughed, manic and too loud until Yancy smothered his hands over his face. Illinois watched, horror warring with concern until the giggles began to taper off, and the hands fell away to reveal a res, tear streaked face. 

"Illy?" he asked in a small voice. 

"I'm here Yance." Illinois said, hand stopping just short of Yancy. 

"Youse came to see me."

"Course I did, kiddo."

"Youse came. After what I did?" As his words became stronger, so did the misplaced accent. 

"Why are you talking like that?" 

"It's in character," Yancy murmured, eyes dropping from Illinois to the white table between. "I don't think youse should come visit again."

"I'm not gonna abandon you-" 

"I killed Mom and Dad." he shot back, "I slit Dad's throat in his sleep and kept stabbing Mom while she screamed. Youse don't wanna be round me, Ill."

"I'll keep coming." Illinois insisted. 

"He won't let you."

"What do you mean-" 

"Youse got 5 minutes left. Make 'em worth it."

Illinois stopped, searching for anything in his brothers slumped shoulders and shaking hands. An answer. An assurance. Anything he could pull from his brother that would let him leave without losing the only family he had left. 

" I got something for you." he said instead, giving in. "Found it on a class trip to a dig up north."

He passed over the white wrapped box he'd brought to every visit, tied with a black bow. 

"Happy birthday." 

Yancy tentatively took the package, running his fingers gently over the seams of the foil wrapping before gently pulling on the ribbon and picking it apart. The lid came off, and Yancy pulled out the yellowing map. Black ink bled through to the other side under the fluorescent light as he ran his finger over the interconnecting lines and boxes. 

"What's it of?" He asked. 

"No idea. We had a few ideas, but it doesn't seem to lead anywhere."

"I like it." Yancy smiled. 

"Good. I'm glad."

The bell rang, and Yancy gave him one last, teary smile. 

"Goodbye Illinois."

He wanted to reach across, press a kiss to his baby brothers forehead and a hundred other little things he might not be able to again. But the guard was already pulling Yancy up and into handcuffs. 

"I'll see you soon, Yance."

*

"Hey Illinois, how you doing?" 

"'bout as well as expected."

"I know the trial is today buddy, I'm sorry."

"I don't want to think about it."

"I get it. You gonna be coming back to school sometime? We're all missing you."

"No. No,I don't think schools for me anymore. Not after all this." 

"I hate to hear that. What are you gonna do now then?"

"I was thinking, know of any relic digs coming up?""


End file.
